Sometimes
by StrawberriesxBeyond
Summary: Sometimes, knowing what you wanted got you into stupid situations. Sometimes, not knowing what you want got you into even stupider situations. Kyle had to learn this the hard way. Main Style, possible K2 and Kyman.


**Another story I should not be starting. Couldn't help myself.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.**

Sometimes, life can just be really fucked up.

At the current moment, it doesn't matter how, just the fact that sometimes, things aren't always fine and dandy. You could be that one kid that no one likes, maybe because you're a little different; because you're not "good enough" for others. Maybe you have a dysfunctional family, with parents who drink too much, or maybe parents who don't care enough, or even parents who care _too_ much. You could have strange habits that tend to push people away from really taking the time out of their day to actually _attempt_ to even spare you a glance. To risk an easy, "What's up," as you happen to suddenly grace them with your presence, intentionally or not. You could look or act funny, and people will push you aside for that reason, because really, they just don't give a fuck.

Maybe _you're _the kid who doesn't give the fuck to care about others. You could catch the eye of one strange kid in the back and not even bother to smile in acknowledgement - or even take a second to remember his name. By the end of the day, what would it really matter, anyway? It wasn't like he was a part of your daily routine, just that one kid who only existed at that very moment you laid eyes on him, until his being skitters out of you're field of vision and you don't even remember there being such a kid breathing in the same air as the rest us.

Whatever the case, life was fucked up, in so many ways, for so many reason, that it almost seems as though people don't even bother to ponder on it, because subcounsiously they know how screwed up everything is on this lovely, little planet Earth. That it's just a waste to burden your mind with such issues that could be catergorized as too trivial to get your hands sticky with, or even too paramount for you to take into your own hands. Which, in itself, is a fucked up issue that has yet to be dealt with because of the exact reason of why it needs to be dealt with. I wont try to get into that though, because everytime I do, I always get brushed off for being, "a bitchy Jew" and I find that to be unnessessary.

The bitchy Jew, the sexually active poor kid, the "secretly" troubled teen, the offensive fatass. That seemed to make up the little group of misfits I called "friends" and every once in awhile I couldn't help but laugh at how strange it truly was. It still amazed me at how long we've stayed together, and as much as I tell everyone and myself otherwise, I wouldn't have it any other way. Yeah, life is really fucked up, especially if your super best friend is on the verge of being mentally unstable and you continue to hang around some douche who's favorite pass time is ripping on you for any slight imperfection you possess, but something about being a part of something so corrupt, and wrong, and just simply _messed up_, gives me this thrill of excitment that leaves me knowing; I'm caught up in something more than just simple teenage drama induced from boredom. I have a role to play, and as little as it may seem, it's there.

It sounds aweful, I know, but in all honesty, I think everyone who lives in South Park feels the same way. Why else would we stay? Why would we not just finally decide we're put up with it all and leave? It's more than just the fact that no one had the skill or money to do so. Even in South Park, it's not impossible to get your life together. If you were determined enough, and actually _tried, _you could go pretty far, or at least, far enough. No, there's another reason why we all stay, and as much as everyone would think I'm crazy for saying it, it's because of us. We're the ones keeping ourselves here. Something twisted in our narrow minds keeps us rooted to these snowy mountains we call "home". Maybe we're too scared to leave, or truly are content with our daily lives in this poor excuse for a town. Whatever the case, no one seems to be leaving anytime soon, or at least, no one _sane_ seems to be leaving anytime soon.

There _are_ those who aren't as dimwitted as the majority of the population; who actually _want _to have a normal, successful life, such as, Wendy Testaburger, for example. She was the main definition of diligence, and we all knew it. Everything she did was in the upmost perfection, and the young "woman" wouldn't except anything less from herself. She was flawless in mind, body, and soul, graced with beauty and strength, both mental and physical. She was secretly enviable amongst her fellow female peers who only had their fake looks to aid them in this unspoken game of achieving preeminence, even from the curvy and coquette, blonde Bebe Stevens who had every normal, hormonal, teenage boy wrapped around her finger. Though the two were best friends, the silent rivalry between them was unmistakable, and if you stuck around long enough to witness their disagreements, you'd most certainly be able to choke on the tension that builds in the air from them.

It never mattered how much anyone fought with her; Wendy always won, and a nagging peep in the back of my head slowly convinced me she always will. I tell myself over and again that it's unrational to feel worried or threatened by this, but the unsettling thoughts and feelings had yet to cease their assault on my confused mind. I couldn't understand why_ I, _of all people, felt something akin to resentment towards to the girl, and I found myself dreading the thought that I would forever ponder on this until my brain exploded from sheer annoyance. None of it made any sense to me, because while Wendy was getting everything she wanted, none of those things related to _my_ wants and wishes.

For the longest time, it itched away at my conscience, and I almost gave up completely, to just let these burdens haunt me forever - until one day I found my answer right in front of me, so obviously rubbing itself in my face that I'm ashamed, yet grateful I hadn't spotted it sooner. It popped up in the most innocent fashion, until my mind started to fully wrap around the idea, and it soon morphed into something much more ugly and green that should not be allowed to exist. Like a light being switched I realized, Wendy did always win, because she had all I wanted; she had my everything.

I struggled to turn that switch back off, to once again be left in the dark about my own feelings, because the truth was so much more frightening now that I was able to see it. Apparently, figuring out the real reasons behind my jealousy hadn't even been close to the end of it. Without even meaning to, I dug deeper into this wound that I found I had been concealing for years now. I had not only been lying to myself, but _believing_ myself. I honestly believed in everything I had told myself to dismiss every fear I had. It was pathetic. Just so utterly pathetic that I didn't know whether to feel sorry or angry at myself.

The worst part, I had no one to go to. I didn't normally like sharing my "problems" with others, but there is the occasional waterfest I'll throw once all the pent up energy from every shitty thing that's happened to me will finally have no more room in the sealed jar I worked so hard to keep shut and will finally burst. It was rare to find me in a jumbled mess of sobs and tears, but it did happen, and I always prefered to be in the presence of someone understanding that wouldn't jump to conclusions or try to solve everything for you. That person usually turned out to be one of my more loyal friends, Kenny McCormick.

Kenny had always been... something else. He wasn't a genius seeking his future like Wendy, nor was he a total douche or depressed teen like the other two idiots in our group. He was just, Kenny. He was - well he was a pervert for one. He also seemed to be the only one of us that could appreciate the humor of our dickheaded, fatass friend, Eric Cartman. Seeing those two being all buddy buddy with each other, start a shouting contest on why the other was so worthless, then joke about it not ten minutes later was always a bizarre occurrence to behold. Kenny had always been more close to Cartman than any of us, even with Cartman's constant bashing on his family being poor. Kenny never seemed to take the many insults thrown his way to heart, especially not Cartman's. If anything, he only seemed annoyed by them.

Kenny never worried over his own problems. I once asked him about it, but he only laughed and told me, "Because all the good things outweight the bad." I was pretty sure he must have quoted that from somewhere, but that's Kenny for you. Strangely enough, with how ludicrous the boy could be, he always knew the right thing to say. He was deep, in his own way, and he didn't let very many things bring him down, that including his drunk of a father, an older brother who seems to be following in said man's footsteps, a mother who has to deal with both son and father's shit, and the sweetest most innocent little sister having to grow up with all that. Yet he still goes on living with a cocky smirk slapped onto his face, like he knows all the secrets of the world and our true purpose in life, even if he himself lives a lousy one. If you really took the time to know Kenny, you would say he is the very definition of inspirational.

Something about pouring your heart and soul out to Kenny made living just so much easier. Which was aweful, because bitching to your friend, who you _know _has it so much worse than you, about something so trivial in comparison, was the most douchebag thing you could to do a friend - or to anyone for that matter. That was something fourteen year old girls pulled after their mothers said no to a navel peircing, because the brats felt dying their hair just wasn't enough. Still, that never stopped Kenny from willingly consoling the temporarily broken hearted. Myself included.

Trust me, I didn't want to go bitch to Kenny about why my life sucked, but Kenny was the only person who knew how to handle such delicate situations without having to shatter any of your original aspects on them. He simply made you look on the brighter side while still being aware that there will always be ups and downs. When it came to life lessons from Kenny, it was like you weren't even speaking to the same person anymore, he was so genuine. He was so bent on the three of us not dying with regret clutching at our hearts, you'd think he'd known what it really felt like. It was this quality that made Kenny the only option as a bleeding heart for me.

But I couldn't go to Kenny this time, because I was sure this was something even he wouldn't understand. Usually, when I can't tell Kenny something, it's a pretty big fucking deal, and there is only one other person in this world that's allowed to know such secrets, him being what I consider my "Super Best Friend." In my life, he was, everything. I told him everything, I've shown him everything, with him I'll do everything, and now, I'll feel everything with him. We've done and will do, everything together. If I needed to let go of a tremendous weight that did nothing but pull me down into an endless void of doubt, that not even Kenny could ever know about, I went to him. But I couldn't go to him for this one. Because Wendy had my everything. Because Stan Marsh was my everything.

I wasn't supposed to feel this way for my best friend, especially when I know he's still head over heels for his ex-girlfriend. I felt even more pathetic remembering that Stan and Wendy weren't even dating anymore, yet I still dispised Wendy for this very reason. Even when she wasn't in the picture anymore, she still managed to keep Stan on a tight leash, just waiting for her next command. The boy was still completely captivated by her, and Wendy knew it too. At times I don't know whether to laugh or cry at how sad it is. It was almost embarrassing.

They've had an on and off relationship going on since third grade, if that's even possible. This last breakup has been the longest so far, and some of us are starting to wonder when the hell those two are going to decide that they made a mistake, and that they were meant for each other, and they'll never leave each other again, and bleh. I've heard it one too many times. It's not the actual idea of them getting back together that annoys me, no, it's the _way _they get back together that just really grates my nerves. It's always the same too, and it never ceases to amaze me how simple, how _natural_, they make it seem.

It's always Stan that goes to her. Doesn't matter which one of them is more desperate, it's always Stan, and though I hate to say it, it will always be Stan. He will always be the one to beg for her back, to tell her he's sorry, that he couldn't breath or live right without her. Wendy knows this, and since the very beginning of their roller coaster relationship, she took advantage of this everytime. Sometimes, Stan was able to get over it and be happy for once without worrying about the girl he could've sworn he had something special with. Sometimes it wasn't him that wanted to start dating again, but instead Wendy, and since we've already established the fact that Wendy always wins, we know that if she wants Stan, then Stan she will get.

She didn't even have to try hard either. Sure, she still played those stupid flirting games with him, which is completely unnecessary when it comes to Stan and Wendy, but it didn't take much to get the noirette wanting the girl enough to build up the courage to finally ask her out. It didn't matter how much Wendy flirted with Stan, because when it came to her, he was nothing but goo that could no longer process human thoughts the correct way, making him as dense in the head as a brick. This became quite clear to Wendy somewhere in the fourth grade, so instead of hinting at it to the oblivious noirette, she took the more shabby route by cheating her way back into his conscience with high skirts, low shirts, and innocent smiles. Which was really something, because Wendy hated exposing herself in any way, even if it meant getting her ex - boyfriend back. I guess that just proves how much she's willing to do just so he wont get away.

For awhile, I really thought it was officially over between the two after this last breakup. Stan had only been bummed for about a week and seemed to have completely forgotten about the whole thing not long after. I hadn't seen or heard any news of Wendy either, so I assumed maybe they both finally came to their senses and realized how ridiculous it was to try and make something work when it never lasted any of the many other times they tried it out. Of course, I should've known better then to think those two would ever give up on each other. A stupid move on my part, really. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking?

When Wendy suddenly made an appearence in her spaghetti straps and jean shorts one Monday morning, we hadn't been all too surprised to find our little Stan tongue-tied while still - sadly - attempting to look cool in his dirty jeans and faded hoodie with major bed head and bags under his eyes. This didn't seem to discourage Wendy in the slightest, for she left with a giggle and a bounce in her step as the hopeless noirette I call my "friend" gawked after her and what I believe to be her non existent ass.

After that one day, we all knew it was a matter of time before the jacked up roller coaster ride of Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger acting like they're "in love" would begin. Once this little affair takes place, all that's left to do is watch that roller coaster finally crash once again, and wait for the process to, once again, repeat itself. I got bored of this little spectacle after the third time I had to deal with the aftermath of it, being a sobbing and drunk Stan showing up on my doorstep ranting on about how he might as well kill himself because life was just too shitty to even bother with anymore. As fun as that sounds, I think I've heard enough self pity from dumbass noirettes who just ended a relationship with their austere girlfriend.

You could say I hadn't been too excited for the revival of this hazardous relationship, but not for the reason you think. At the time, when Wendy started hinting to Stan that she wanted him back again, I had no idea my feelings toward the noirette were a little more intimate as far as friendship goes. It was simply the cycle of having to stand by your friend as he struggles with his feelings, see his face light up once he has gotten what he's wanted, then watch the clouds rage above him as that bout of happiness comes to an abrupt end not four months later. And it happens, in that order, every. Single. Time. You'd get tired of it too. Especially if your super best friend's mind is in constant turmoil over the littlest mishaps like a thirteen year old on her menstrual. You could imagine it never turned out pretty.

For this reason, I tried to ignore the irritation bubbling up inside me as I had to witness the sad little display of Wendy's random chats with Stan that involved her "casually" leaning forward and squeezing what little breasts she had closer together. I figured I was only bothered about knowing I would later have to console Stan once this all started and they would once again fall out of whatever they called this bullshit affair, because it was NOT, dating. Point being, their screwed up relationship has never settled well with me, so I easily assumed this was why I found myself glaring a little harder than usual at the two giggling, sex-deprived teenagers. The only problem was, I found myself _glaring a little harder than usual,_ and there was no reason to be so ticked off as I was about the two of them flirting.

I think a small part of me knew from the very beginning why I was so agitated seeing them together, but I didn't even let the idea surface, it was so ridiculous - or at least, at the time it was so ridiculous. As a matter of fact, it still is; just on a whole new level of ridiculous, just like it was ridiculous that Wendy and Stan were constantly breaking up and getting back together. It was ridiculous, that Wendy was so smart and had so much potential, but even after all these years, she still never learns how to _let it go_. It was ridiculous that Stan _knew_ what he was doing to himself, but refused to stop because he thought, and continues to think, that Wendy makes him _happy_. It was even more ridiculous that _I, _knowing how utterly _stupid _this all was, still served as a go-to-person for Stan when he needed a shoulder to cry on. It was all just so ridiculous, and fucked up, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I _wanted_ to do about it.

Another screwed up thing for me to say, but sometimes, I don't give a fuck where the drama goes, if I'm involved or not. It's entertaining enough and teaches us all life lessons, even though half of us learn nothing from it just because we're one of _those _people. Sometimes, I think - no, I know, Stan and Wendy are one of _those_ people. Believe it or not, Wendy loves drama, only because she likes to be the one to tell everyone how stupid they are in the end, and I must admit, being that one person is quite nice. Stan on the other hand, is one of the people that you'd be calling an idiot, because even if he may not know it, he loves to bud his way into other people's business. Cartman and Kenny do too, maybe even me.

It's hard not to notice my strange assortment of friends. How different we are from each other. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why no one has gotten tired of me yet. I honestly don't see myself as good company to anyone, and after being friends for more than ten years you'd think the guys would be put up with me by now. I mentioned this to Stan once, and he had laughed, asking how _I_ haven't gotten tired of _him _yet. It was that moment when I realized how fragile Stan's mind is. No one else may have noticed his little slip up, but that laugh had been nervous. His question wasn't just a simple joke. It was a confirmation. And _actual_ confirmation to himself that I truly wasn't tired of him. I couldn't help but feel selfish for thinking Stan no longer wanted to be my friend, when _he _was the one that was truly scared of _me_ leaving _him._

It was also in that moment that I realized how well I knew Stan than everyone else did. No one knew that dark side of Stan. The one with the confused, and scared little boy hiding under his bed as the monsters terrorized and raged away in the only sanctuary he knew of. Only his closest of friends know how sensitive he actually is. How easy it is to disrupt his whole mental system with just a few careless words. If you were to look at all of us, your first impression would be that Stan was the only normal one, the most stable. No one would ever believe that Stan was the one with the confidence issues; not his nerdy, Jewish, best friend. No one would ever believe that Stan was the one who wished everyday that he had a different family; not his abused and deprived buddy who mooched off others for food. No one would ever believe, not in a hundred years, that Stan was the one suffering from mental problems that he could not help; not his jerk-face friend with the insane ego.

No one would ever believe any of this, because Stan would never let them. Because it's impossible to think that that handsome football jock that walks down the halls like he fucking owns the place is depressed, right?

At school, Stan was fine. Or atleast he looked that way. If he wasn't my best friend I would never have suspected anything. Sometimes, even as his best friend, I _don't _suspect anything. Or maybe I do, and I just choose to ignore it. Either way, Stan seems like any other normal, hormonal teenager, when in reality he's hurting so much more. The whole thing is pretty awful really. Stan isn't like your typical depressed teenager. He'll be completely fine for a few months, genuinely happy, until one day out of the blue he'll hit rock bottom.

It's almost scary to witness. I've seen Stan at his worse, and it's the farthest thing from pretty. Stan's usual resort is to turn to alcohol, which leads him to do even stupider things he'll regret that only seize to make him even more depressed. The one time I tried to keep him away from such influences though, he ended up hanging out with those damn goth kids again and started harming himself by... other means. It was a sensitive topic - still is, and I still feel partly responsible, no matter how many times Stan tells me otherwise. According to him, there was nothing I could have done about it, but I refused to listen to him. For that whole year, I watched him like a hawk, and even got Wendy to help out. It wasn't until Kenny forced me to let up on the supposed "leash" I had put on him did I finally leave him be.

There have been so many close calls with Stan. The worst was after his parents got divorced and his dad re-married. That's when his life got really messy. It was around this time where everything bad just seemed to happen. Not long after his parents divorced, him and Wendy, once again, broke up. This had also been the same time where I happened to get sick and was admitted into the hospital for two weeks, leaving Stan all by himself. Kenny had also seemed to disappear around this time. Don't know where he went. Of course, who in their right mind would go to Cartman for comfort? It must be pretty clear by now to know Stan was not in a happy place with his current situation.

That has to be one of my worst fears. To leave Stan all alone in this cold, cruel world to fend for himself. I've done it before and I'm not too keen on doing it again. I mean, who knows what the boy would do were he to be left alone without any friends to guide him through the sharped and jagged thorns of, not only high school, but life in general. No one wants the noirette to end up hurting himself.

No, that didn't sound right. I know Stan can take care of himself. He's gotten good at that. After all, he is a "big boy" now. I know I'm scared, but not for Stan.

"Watch where you're going!" Maybe just a little scared.

I rolled my eyes as the helpless student scrurried off, leaving an annoyed Stan muttering something about, "Damn freshmen."

"You know, there's a reason why texting and driving is illegal." I said, glancing over at the noirette who continued to stare down at his phone, already having forgotten about the boy that crashed into him not five seconds ago.

"And you're telling me this because...?" He inquired, only half acknowledging my statement, like always once he's gotten a text from Wendy.

I sighed softly before mummbling a reply, "No reason."

In that moment I felt something slam against my back, and I probably would've fallen forward if not for the arm that soon wrapped around me. I looked over to find Kenny wedged in between Stan and I, a goofy grin planted on his face.

"What's up, fags?" Says the boy who used to suck dick for money. I ignored the last part, not caring that I've heard it from not only Kenny, but Cartman as well, countless of times now. "Texting while walking, I see. Tsk tsk, I'm very disappointed in you, Stan." Kenny stated, shaking his head disapprovingly. Stan only grinned in response, slipping his phone back in his pocket, and for some fucked up reason, I dreaded the moment when he'll pull it back out.

**So, I'm really anxious about this new story, like I always am about anything new I start. It's cliche, I know, but that's the whole point. Either way, I've decided it shall be something I write for my own fun and pleasure, though it would still be nice to get some feedback on it. :) **


End file.
